


Long Bridge, Short Walk

by clgfanfic



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heyes and the Kid need a little help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Bridge, Short Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Just You, Me and the Governor #10 and then later in Ouch! #13 under the pen name Nancy Platte.

          She had wandered her homeland for a hundred years, cursed.  Alone and tired, she bought her passage on a ship and sailed to the New World.

          America was a larger prison, but a prison nonetheless.

          Sorrow and despair drove her west.  There she found people who ignored her absent voice; people who did not know of the curse.

          But then, slowly, the Indians were killed or removed, and she was alone again.

          She fled farther west, finding a small community in the Wyoming mountains. It was a community of immigrants, carving out a place for themselves in the wilderness.  They took her in.

          Through each day of her exile she waited and prayed, knowing that one day the two men who could lift her curse would come.  Then she could go home, back to the green hills.  Back to the Sidhe.

          And one day, they finally came.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          It was cold.  Colder than anything Heyes could remember.  Colder than the winter of '79.  Colder than the blizzard of '82.

          Everything was white.  He couldn't see anything.  He reached out, trying to regain some sense of orientation, but he couldn't move.

          His mouth opened, the word bursting free – "Kid!" – but there was no sound.

          Reality squeezed his heart.  He was buried.  Buried in snow.  He was freezing to death.  Where was the Kid?

          Heyes squeezed his eyes shut.  The Kid had to be close by… buried, too?  _God, no_ , he thought.  _Please, let the Kid be all right_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "What if we can't find this… new Kid Curry?" Heyes asked, leaning forward in the wooden chair.

          Sheriff Lom Trevors took a sip of his coffee before he replied.  "I guess the Governor will think that it isn't someone just saying he's the Kid, but the Kid himself, and your amnesty will be a thing of the past."

          "Come on, Lom," Curry said with disgust, "you know damn well it isn't me."

 

          "Of course I do, Kid.  But what matters is what the Governor thinks, and he's not going to grant an amnesty to a man who's getting a reputation for killing people – not to mention his own partner," Lom added, looking pointedly at Heyes.  If he could get Heyes would go along with this, Curry would follow.

          "You're sure it's not Fred Philpotts?" Curry asked for the third time.

          "Like I told you, Kid, I checked.  Fred and his wife are settled down, farming with a baby on the way.  It is _not_ Fred Philpotts."

          "All right, all right," Heyes said, knowing full well what Trevors wanted.

          Lom sighed with relief.

          "We'll go find this man who's calling himself Kid Curry, and we'll bring him back here to you, and _you_ can deliver him to the Governor's lap.  But, if that isn't enough to get him to push that amnesty through, so help me, Lom, I'll make what we did in the past look like we were on a Sunday social."  Heyes' tone was low and deadly serious.

          "I'll do everything in my power to help you boys, you know that."

          "That isn't enough, Lom.  This is it.  We do this job, we better get our amnesty," Heyes hissed.

          Trevors nodded.  "I understand."

          Heyes rose and stalked across the sheriff's small house to the front door, Curry behind him.

          "He was last heard from in Still Creek.  I'd try Sheeland, he's been moving west and that's the next town of any size," Trevors called after them.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "What're we going to do if we find him?" Curry asked as they rode out of Porterville, the new moon cloaking their departure.

          "We catch him in some dark spot, cold-cock him and bring him back to Lom."

          Curry looked over at his partner, trying to make out the man's features in the darkness.  Heyes was upset, really upset, and he couldn't figure out why.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes struggled awake.  He was still cold, but it wasn't as frightening now.  He knew he was dying, but it was hard to work up the energy to get upset about it. He just wished he knew for certain what had happened to the Kid.

          "Heyes…"  The sound was far away and muffled.

          They had found him – Carl Wilber, the man who would be Kid Curry.  Too bad his partner, Tom Ashbury, had thought their new identities weren't such a good idea.  Hannibal "Tom Ashbury" Heyes was dead.

          Heyes was dead.

          They had found him… Wilber… hadn't they?  He was sure they had, but what had happened?

          Heyes struggled to remember, but the teasing memories slipped over the edges of his fuzzy concentration, escaping.

          "Heyes, can you hear me?"

          The Kid?

          The Kid was alive!

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes' eyes dropped closed.  Death was no longer so frightening.  His partner was alive.  The Kid was okay.

          "Heyes!"

          "I'm here, Kid," he slurred quietly.  "Right here… sit with me a bit, Kid… it's gonna be a long walk."  He giggled.  "On a short bridge."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes' chest rose and fell slightly with each shallow breath, his head rolling slowly from side to side.  Brown hair clung to his damp forehead, giving him a child-like vulnerability.  Blood seeped from the crease along his left temple, and spread out on the bandage that was wrapped around his midsection.  The wagon continued on, each bump causing Heyes to grimace in pain, or gasp, biting back the agony.

          The girl finally pulled the horses up to stop, the team standing in front of a small cabin, fidgeting in their traces.  Turning in her seat, she and looked down at the man, wondering if he was the one the blond stranger was searching for.

          _I hope not_ , she thought.  _You've little chance to live, and you're very important to the man_.

          Climbing off the wagon, she ran to the small, isolated cabin, and knocked twice, waited, then knocked twice more.  She heard the hammer of the stranger's gun return to a safe position, then the sound of the man making his way to the door.

          When he opened it she saw that he had torn the stitches in his leg open again, the bandage bloody.  She pointed to the wagon and motioned for him to come look.

          Throwing the door open, he hobbled over to join her, and glanced down at the wounded man.  The stranger's face went pale.

          "Oh my God, Heyes?" he said, reaching forward and brushing back the damp hair that clung to the man's pain-damp face.

          Hearing the Kid's voice, Heyes forced his eyes open and tried to speak.  When he couldn't, he tried swallowing, but only coughed instead, the resulting pain curling him into a tight ball.

          "Get me some water," Curry directed the girl.

          She hurried off, returning just as quickly, and handing the blond a cup.

          Supporting Heyes' head with one arm, the Kid helped him take a few swallows, then handed the cup back to the girl.  "We've got to get you inside," he told his partner.

          Heyes nodded, wondering how the Kid was going to manage that one.  "You, okay?"

          "Yeah, just a few stitches, but my leg's not going to support you.  Can you sit up?" the Kid asked.

          Heyes nodded he could, silently hoping he was right.

          "Okay, if you can stand up, then between the two of us we should be able to hold you up and get you inside."

          With the Kid's help Heyes was able to sit up.  They waited while he pulled himself to the edge of the wagon, letting his legs dangle over the end.  Curry and the girl positioned themselves on either side of the injured man.  Heyes was winded and hurting, but there was still more work to be done.

          "All right," the Kid said when he and the girl had a good grip on Heyes, "if you can just stand up we've got it made."

          Heyes sucked in a deep breath and tried to push himself up, but found he couldn't.  "My legs aren't working, Kid," he said somewhat absently, wishing they would just get him inside and on a bed.  The pain was escalating.

          Curry pulled his partner forward, and off the wagon.

          Heyes hung suspended between the Kid and the girl, and the jar as his body dropped brought a cry of anguish to his lips.

          They moved slowly, but the weight of his own body was enough to wring sobs from Heyes as they carried him to the cabin and inside to a small cot near the fireplace.

          The girl moved quickly, gathering items from around the house as the Kid worked to get Heyes' clothes off.  When he was finished she stepped up to the cot and shooed Curry back.  Pointing to a large bowl, then the whistling teapot, the Kid knew what she wanted and moved to get it for her.

          When he set the bowl and hot water down next to her she pointed to a jar on the nearby table and he grabbed it and handed it over.  She poured a small amount of the powder into the hot water, stirred it with a stick, then dipped a cloth in and wrung it out.

          She cleaned the blood from Heyes' face, then moved to the more serious wound.  A bullet had entered Heyes' side at an angle and lodged near his spine.  The entrance was red and swollen, infection already setting in.

          Heyes moaned, and tried to move away from her manipulations, but the Kid held his shoulders firmly in place so she could work.  When she had finished cleaning the blood away she frowned.

          "What?" the Kid asked, disliking the look on her face.

          She shook her head, moving away to gather a collection of instruments, which she placed in the coals of the fireplace.  After they had sat in the heat for a few moments she removed them, dipping them into the water.  That done, she began to dig pieces of shirt from the entrance of the wound.

          Heyes struggled weakly against the Kid's grip, tears sliding out from under his clenched eyelids.  When she finished, the young girl covered the wound with a thin layer of bandages, then went to work, preparing a thick paste, which she applied over the bandage as a poultice.

          Finished, she turned to Curry and shook her head.  Pointing to Heyes she mimed a bag and a stethoscope.

          The Kid nodded.  "I know he needs a doctor, but I can't go into town.  I need to ask you another favor."

          She nodded.

          "Do you have a pencil and a piece of paper?" he asked.

          She turned, heading off to a small room off the main cabin that doubled as storeroom and her bedroom.  Returning, she handed over both.

          The Kid quickly wrote out a telegram message, and handed it to her.  "Take this to the telegraph office and have them send it right away."  He dug into his pockets for money, and handing it to her, finished, "Wait for an answer."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 

          "To Sheriff Lom Trevors, Porterville, Wyoming," read the telegraph operator. "Joshua looking forward to meeting doctor.  Hope you can come too.  T. Jones." The man glanced up at the girl.  "I'll get this right off, Torry.  Is Mr. Jones a friend of yours?"

          It was clear the stranger didn't want to arouse any suspicion.  Torry smiled and pointed to herself.

          "That mean he's family?" the man asked.

          She dipped her head and nodded.

          "Well, this'll take a few minutes.  Why don't you go see if the misses has some apple pie leftover from last night?"

          Torry nodded and headed for the back of the office where it connected to the Bidder home.

          She had just finished the pie when Mr. Bidder called from the front of the office.  "I've got your answer, Torry."

          She shoved the last piece of pie in and gulped down the last of the milk.  Signing her thanks to Mrs. Bidder, she raced to the counter, grabbing the folded piece of paper that lie there.  Waving, she ran outside and rolled onto the back of her small buckskin mustang, heading back to the cabin at a hard gallop.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The Kid squeezed the cloth to remove the excess water, then wiped Heyes' face.  The damp cloth seemed to be keeping the fever from building and Heyes was resting quieter.  The dark eyes opened, glassy and unfocused, as Curry replaced the cloth.  He reached for a cup of water Torry had left sitting near the cot, but Heyes rolled his head away when he tried to get him to drink.

          "I sent for Lom and a doctor," Curry said quietly, not sure if Heyes could hear him.  "Can you hold out a little longer?"

          Heyes tried to smile, but it came out a twisted grimace.  "I'll give it a shot, Kid," he said just above a whisper.  "I really messed this one up."

          "Don't worry about that now.  It'll get worked out."

          "Hope so, or we can forget that amnesty."  Heyes forced the words out with a painful wheeze.

          "Don't talk anymore," the Kid gently scolded, hoping the light tone covered up his fear.  "You just rest 'til the doc gets here."

          Heyes nodded and closed his eyes.

          Curry couldn't tell if Heyes had gone to sleep, or drifted off unconscious again.  The sounds of an approaching rider grabbed his attention and he moved to the window to see who it was.  Relief swept over him when he saw Torry sliding off the little buckskin.

          "How'd it go?" he asked as she came through the door.

          She handed him the reply and headed straight for Heyes.

          The Kid took the telegram, reading aloud softly:  "Bringing doctor for visit.  Maybe do some fishing.  See you soon.  Lom," he paused and sighed.  "It's goin' to be okay.  Lom's coming, and he's bringing a doctor."

          Torry pointed to a small clock sitting on the fireplace mantle.

          "Eight hours if they ride, four if they come by train."

          Torry mimed pulling a train whistle.

          "Me, too.  Me, too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          It was getting warmer, or maybe he just wasn't feeling the cold anymore.  In either case, he was almost comfortable.  Only the deep, dull ache in his side kept him from closing his eyes again.

          "Heyes!"

          "Kid?" he replied, still seeing nothing but the stark white surrounding him.

          "Heyes, listen to me," Curry pleaded.  "I'm coming to get you.  You just have to hang on until I can get there."

          "Get me?" Heyes mumbled.  "Where are you?"

          "Don't ask, Heyes.  Just hang on a little bit longer."

          "I don't know, Kid."

          "That bridge is longer than you think, Heyes.  Just promise me you'll wait at the end until I get there."

          "I'll try, Kid.  I'll try."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Five hours passed, the slowest five hours of Jed Curry's relatively short life.  He sat next to Heyes, watching and waiting.  He prayed for the first time since his parents had been killed, but it didn't bring Lom and the doctor any faster.

          Heyes eyes fluttered and opened.  Looking up at the Kid, he knew he wasn't in good shape.  _I hope Lom can get you out of this mess I got us in_ , he thought.  _I don't think I'm going to be able to._

          "How you doin'," he heard the Kid ask.

          "Hangin' in there," he whispered, the words slurred.

          "Good.  Just keeping doing that."

          Heyes nodded, his eyes dropping closed again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Curry felt the light touch on his shoulder and jerked awake.  Staring blearily up at Lom, he asked, "It's over?"

          Trevors nodded.  "Little while ago.  The doctor says it's still touch and go, but whatever that girl did, it slowed the infection and gave Heyes whatever chance he has."

          The Kid looked across the small room to where Torry and the doctor still fussed over Heyes.  "She's… different."

          "Well, I guess that doesn't really matter.  If Heyes lives, she will have saved his life."  He looked down at the Kid's leg.  "Looks like she might've helped you some, too."

          The Kid nodded.

          "What about—?" Lom started to ask.

          "He's dead," Curry interrupted.

          "Dead?"

          Curry pushed himself up out of the rocking chair and walked carefully over to the pot-belly stove, pouring himself a cup of coffee.  Taking a sip, he and Lom headed outside.  They sat on the front step, Curry extending his leg to let it rest.

          "Tell me about it," Lom instructed gently.

          Curry drew a deep breath and let the story flow out of him like the last memories of a bad dream.  "We found him in Sheeland, just like you thought.  Heyes figured it'd be easier if we could lure him out of town – to make sure no one was hurt if he got stubborn.  Heyes was the bait.  I was waiting just south of town. I don't know what went wrong… they were riding toward me, looking real friendly, then Wilber drew and shot Heyes and his bay spooked and bolted.  I rode out and Wilber took a shot at me, too, hit me in the leg."

          "And?"

          "I shot back."

          "You killed him?"

          "No," Curry said, sounding disappointed.  "I hit him in the shoulder.  He jerked back on the reins and his horse reared.  He fell.  He was dead when I reached him."

          "Where's the body?"

          Curry shot the sheriff a hurt look.  "You don't believe me."

          "I believe you, Kid.  I just want to take it back and dump it on the Governor's desk."

          "Undertaker in Sheeland's got him."

          "And Heyes?"

          "I tried to find him, but I was bleedin' pretty bad and I guess I passed out.  The girl found me and sewed up my leg.  I told her about Heyes and she went out and found him, too; brought him back here and tended to him."

          Lom stood, and took Curry's empty cup.  "You better get back inside and rest that leg in front of the fire.  I'm going to ride into town and take a look at— What was his name?"

          "Wilber.  Carl Wilber, from Omaha."

          Lom helped the Kid to his feet and inside to the rocking chair.  "Doc, I'm going to head into town," he told the older, silver-haired man.

          "Excellent, I'll go with you.  I'd like to see if there's an apothecary."

          Torry nodded.

          "Good, very good.  You'll watch him?" he asked her.

          Torry nodded again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The fever came up suddenly and Torry was forced to secure Heyes' hand and feet to keep him from flailing.  Panic welled up in her.  She knew he was dying, and the doctor wouldn't be back for at least another hour.  He couldn't wait that long.

          She glanced over at the blond stranger, Kid Curry or Thaddeus Jones, his real name didn't matter, the pain in his eyes said all she needed to know.

          Shoving the damp cloth into his hand, she rushed out of the small cabin, running into the small grove that grew just beyond the home.  Picking several samples of plants and stones, she hurried back to the cabin.  Her first stop was a good sized trunk occupying a corner of the room.  Opening it, she removed a black sack and carried it over to the bed.

          The fever was higher.  She shooed Curry away, then slipped several stones under Heyes' body.  That done she jabbed a finger at a picture of rain water that sat on the small table.  Curry carried it over, and sank into the chair next to the bed.

          Torry dug into the sack, drawing out a bundle of sticks.  Oak went under Heyes' pillow, opening the doorway to the mysteries she had left behind so long ago.  She slipped the Rowan under his head, giving her some control over his senses, keeping the Willow for herself, hoping the spirits would bolster her rusty talents.  She handed the Kid Ash and Hawthorn, linking him to Heyes' inner and outer realities, and giving him the protection he would need.  Reaching into her pocket, she sprinkled the local version of heather across Heyes' body.

          Curry watched the procedures, completely at a loss.  He waited, water in one hand, sticks in the other, not knowing what else to do.

          Taking two more sticks out of the bundle, she returned the rest to the trunk. Returning to the bedside, she dipped the Elder and Yew into the pitcher and flung the clinging drops onto Heyes and Curry.  She slipped the two sticks under her belt, then reached out and took the pitcher from Curry and set it out of the way on the hearth.  Turning back to the Kid, she had him hold the Hawthorn stick in his right hand, and pressed against his heart.  Folding his left fingers around the Ash branch, she pointed to Heyes' chest.

          "I don't understand," the Kid said, feeling scared.

          She guided the tip of the Ash until it touched Heyes' chest above his heart.

          Curry sucked in a breath, suddenly caught in a world of white.  It took several minutes for him to get his bearings, and he was still completely lost, but at least he didn't feel like he was falling off an endless cliff.

          "Heyes!" he called, the name sounding far away and muffled.  "Heyes, can you hear me?  Heyes!"

          Curry heard the reply, low and weak in the unending mist.  "I'm here, Kid… right here… sit with me a bit, Kid… it's gonna be a long walk…"  There was a soft giggle.  "On a short bridge."

          "Heyes!" he snapped.

          "Kid?" was the reply.

          Curry still couldn't see anything but the stark white surrounding him, but he felt like he was closer to his partner.

          "Heyes, listen to me," he pleaded.  "I'm coming to get you.  You just have to hang on until I can get there."

          "Get me?" Heyes' voice mumbled.  "Where are you?"

          "Don't ask, Heyes.  Just hang on a little bit longer."

          "I don't know, Kid."

          "That bridge is longer than you think, Heyes.  Just promise me you'll wait at the end until I get there."

          "I'll try, Kid.  I'll try."

          Curry felt the mist clear, and the feeling gave him a shiver.  He was surprised to find himself standing on a narrow wooden bridge that extended out into the middle of a large blue and emerald lake.  Mountains rose all around them, and trees of all kinds covered the hills.  It was beautiful and frightening at the same time.  Heyes sat at the end of the bridge, his back to Curry, his legs dangling over the edge.

          "Heyes?"

          The dark-haired outlaw glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening with surprise.  Heyes scrambled to his feet, greeting Curry with a tight bear-hug.  "Kid, it's good to see you.  I thought you were dead."

          Curry glanced around.  "Maybe we are, Heyes."

          "Well, if we are, it doesn't seem too bad."

          The shiver returned, and the Kid knew that was exactly where they were – on the edge of life and death; Heyes' life and death.  He looked back down the bridge and saw the girl standing on the shore.  She waved, then motioned for him to join her.

          "Heyes, I think we have to go."

          "Go?" the ex-outlaw echoed.  "Where?"

          Curry pointed to Torry.  "She's here to take us home."

          Heyes studied the girl.  There was something familiar about her, something compelling.  "I don't know, Kid, this is a nice place – quiet, safe and now that you're here—"

          "I can't stay, Heyes."

          The man's dark eyes clearly stated his feeling of betrayal.  "Why?"

          Curry's gaze dropped to his boots.  "This is your choice," he finally said.  He looked up.  "I can't go with you, but you can come back with me."

          Torry waved at the Kid again., her gestures more frantic this time.

          "I've gotta go, Heyes.  You comin' or stayin'?"

          Heyes looked back out at the peaceful lake, then back to the girl.  Curry took a step back down the bridge.  "Kid, wait."

          "I can't, Heyes."

          Heyes watched his partner start to walk away.  He felt safe, but he didn't want to be alone.  He stood and took a step after the Kid, then bolted to catch up with him.  "Hey, what's the rush?"

          "I don't rightly know," Curry admitted.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Curry sucked in a deep breath and slumped back against the chair.  He panted for several minutes, his eyes closed.  When the vertigo stopped he opened his eyes.  The girl was returning the sticks to the black sack, which she carried back to the trunk.  She removed the stones next, then tossed them into the snapping fire in the hearth.  Sparks erupted, disappearing as quickly as they came.

          He studied Heyes' face, which was now relaxed and peaceful.  "Is he okay?" he asked.

          She nodded, then smiled.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "I still don't understand it," the doctor said, shaking his head.  "The wound looks like it's days old.  It's… it's impossible."

          Curry shrugged.  "So long as he's getting better, it's no concern of mine."

          Standing, the doctor pulled on his coat and hat.  "Well, my work here is done."  He looked curiously at the young women.  She was growing more beautiful by the day.  "What little I did.  I'm sure I leave you in good hands."

          Lom opened the door, letting the doctor out first.  "I'll go have that chat with the Governor.  You and Heyes stay here until I get back."

          The Kid nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Kid?"

          Curry snorted and jerked awake.  "Heyes?"

          "Where are we?"

          "Sheeland."

          "Wilber?"

          "Dead."

          Heyes drew himself further up the bed and leaned back against the wall and pillow.  "What happened?"

          Curry gave his partner a quick blow by blow, minus his trip into the mist.  "How do you feel?" he concluded.

          "Pretty good," Heyes admitted.  "Hungry."

          Curry grinned.  "That's usually my line."

          Heyes watched the young woman who was working at the pot-belly stove.  "Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me something?"

          "Me?" Curry defended.  "Now, Heyes, why would I do that?"

          "Why indeed.  When's Lom due back?"

          "Day after tomorrow."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes stepped out onto the cabin's small porch.  Birds chirped in the gentle dawn light, and a light breeze carried a hint of honeysuckle.  He felt good, better in fact than he had in a long, long time.  He was healthy, happy and a free man.

          A grin spread across his face and he drew in a deep breath, savoring the added sweetness of liberty.  Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were free men.

          The door creaked open and the Kid stepped out to join him, handing over a cup of hot coffee.  "Torry's got breakfast almost ready."

          Heyes took a sip and nodded.  "Thanks."  The grinned widened.  "I still can't believe it, Kid."

          Curry's grin matched Heyes'.  "Me either."

          "What now?"

          "Whatever we want."

          "What about the girl?" Heyes asked.

          "She knows we can't stay.  I don't think she expects us to."

          Heyes nodded, more serious.  "I owe her my life.  Her and you."  He met Curry's gaze.  "I've been remembering."

          The Kid shrugged.  "Don't ask me to explain it, Heyes, I don't know any more than you do.  She did it.  Just do me a favor."

          "What's that?"

          "Don't take any more long walks on any short bridges."

          Heyes laughed.  "Don't plan to, not for a long time, Kid, but you know, when it does finally happen, I don't think I'll mind too much."

          "Yeah," Curry said, his voice a little far away, "I know what you mean."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Heyes and Curry stepped onto the porch, Torry following.

          "Thank you again," Heyes said as he gave her a tight hug.  "I'm grateful to you.  If you ever need us, you just have to let us know and we'll be there."

          She nodded.

          "That goes for me, too," the Kid added, getting his hug in.

          Both men regarded her for a moment.  She looked radiant, her long blonde hair shining, her large green eyes as beautiful as any they had ever seen.

          Heyes and Curry sighed in unison.

          Then Heyes looked at his partner.  "Kid, I think we ought to flip for her."

          Torry titled her head to the side, asking what he meant.

          "We're in love," the Kid said, "but there's only one of you and there's two of us."

          "Unless you have a preference?" Heyes asked hopefully.

          Torry smiled and shook her head, making it plain she couldn't pick.

          Heyes leaned forward and kissed her cheek, Curry the other.

          Torry giggled.  "I'm afraid I could never choose," she said with a delicate Irish accent.  "It's time for you to go, start a new life.  One day, we'll meet again."

          Heyes and Curry exchanged shocked expressions, and looking back, they found her gone.

          "Heyes?"

          "Don't ask, Kid.  Don't ask."

          Together they stepped off the porch and mounted their waiting horses.

          "But—"

          "Kid, I think we'll chalk it up to…"  He paused a moment.  "Clean living."

          Curry laughed.  "Okay, but I think I believe in angels now."

          "I believe we have a second chance, and I for one am going to make the most of it."

          "Well, lead on hen," Curry said.

          And they headed out at a gallop.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          And she made the journey home as well, singing a tale of love and gratitude, won from the hearts of two wolf's heads – free at least herself.

 

The End


End file.
